


Leggings

by sprintfly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Eighth Year Common Room, Hogwarts Head Boys & Head Girls, Leggings, Room of Requirement, Running, heads' dorm, introvert Hermione, shared common room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29789313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprintfly/pseuds/sprintfly
Summary: "And then Draco saw it. Her arse. In all its glory, held behind a thin piece of navy blue spandex, just begging to be grabbed and pinched.But it was not his arse to grab or pinch"
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 170





	Leggings

“Granger what the fuck are you wearing?” Draco grumbled in the way only a barely awake person can do, as he walked into their Head Boy and Girl common room slash kitchen. Somehow a month into term was the first time he had seen Hermione in the morning before her shower. Did she sleep in those…?

“They’re leggings. Muggle workout wear.” She turned around to face the counter.

And then Draco saw it. Her arse. In all its glory, held behind a thin piece of navy blue spandex, just begging to be grabbed and pinched.

But it was not his arse to grab or pinch; Draco shook his head to remind himself. 

“Why are you wearing them?” Draco tried to appear uninterested. He looked at her sweatshirt. A basic, gray, Hogwarts sweatshirt. Nothing sculpting about it. 

“I ran”

“You ran?”

“Yeah. About 13k.” She slid over to the other side of their kitchenette to grab a bowl. But the bowls were on a high shelf. So she stood up on her toes. And Draco’s jaw almost dropped. Her legs. Since when did Granger have legs like that? They were long and lean, but not too skinny. He realized he was probably admiring the result of her run, or maybe runs plural?

“Have you done that before?”

Hermione had obviously thought their conversation was over, and had moved on to pouring her cereal.

“Malfoy you’ve seen me eat breakfast here every day for the past month, yes I’ve poured cereal before.” Hermione was somewhere between exasperated and concerned for Draco’s mental state.

“No,” he stammered, “not that. I know how to pour cereal.” Hermione gave an amused huff at that. “Run, running.”

Hermione was still lost.

“Have you run before?” He finally got the question out with comprehensible grammar structure.

“Oh. Yeah.” 

That was it? All he was going to get?

“I’ve actually run almost every day before school for the past 7 years.”

Now Draco’s jaw really did drop. He had so many questions: Where? When? Does anyone else know? Does anyone else run with you? But one seemed most pressing.

“Why?” he spluttered.

Hermione’s mouth quirked with a smile before she answered. “Hogwarts has no physical education, except for quidditch,” she hastily added, correctly preempting his objection, “and yet they still stock the Great Hall full of carbs, starches, and sugars at every meal. So I knew I had to exercise somehow.”

“But why running? And where?”

“Running is the easiest to do without equipment. I asked McGonagall for a map of grounds, back in first year, with anything out of bounds clearly labeled. If you run the whole perimeter it’s about 6.4k, so I worked up to that, and now I do two or three laps each morning.”

Granger seated herself at the round table with Draco. She began to eat her cereal, but his eyes were still locked on her. She looked up. His mouth was still slightly open, his eyes narrowed, and his brows furrowed.

“Do you have more questions?” She prompted.

“I just— I don’t understand what the leggings have to do with anything.”

Now Hermione really laughed. “They’re just what I prefer to wear. The help to wick sweat away from my body, but they still keep me warm at 4:30 or 5:00.”

Another jaw drop from Draco.

“You run at 4:30?” Now Draco was concerned for Hermione’s mental state.

“Yeah, I mean I usually don’t start until 4:45 or so, after I stretch and all that, but sometime around then. I like to be back for breakfast, and I run anywhere from an hour to an hour and 40 minutes.”

Hermione went back to her cereal. Draco sat there and did math. And wished he could see her stretching.

“Breakfast doesn’t end until 8:30. Surely you could run at 6:00 and still have time.”

She shrugged. “But breakfast starts at 6:30, so I start earlier. I like to use the time after I eat to finish up any last minute homework.” She went back to her cereal.

“Granger.”

She looked up.

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that you save homework for the morning it’s due?”

She looked back down.

“Fine.” She set down her spoon, “I’m a total introvert.” She paused to look back up at him again. “Running in the early morning is an escape for me. The castle is quiet, the grounds are quiet, no one needs me for anything, so I just run. In the mornings, a crowded Great Hall is avoidable, so I like to eat at 6:30, before too many people show up. Now, it’s really nice to have our own kitchen and food, I much prefer to start my day like this.”

She stood up to clear her bowl. Draco was still at the table, thinking. She just dropped a major truth bomb, acted like the admission of her inner feelings like nothing, and then stood up and continued her day. Such a bloody gryffindor.

\-- 

Later in Charms, Draco did more math. Three laps around grounds was about 19 kilometres. Hermione Granger ran 19k in an hour and 40 minutes? That makes a pace of about 5 and a half minutes per kilo. Damn. She’s fast.

He wondered if he could keep up with her. Quidditch was good cardio, right? Probably not. She was running non stop, up and down hills, and he was just sitting on a broom, tilting one way or the other, using magic to overcome gravity. 

Next he imagined what her arse would look like while running.

Draco got extra homework assigned that class.

\--

When Hermione returned to the common room Draco was already sitting in an armchair doing homework. She sat down on the couch to join him.

“What do you do when it rains, Granger?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“When it rains,” he repeated, “you can’t run outside so where do you go?”

“Oh.” Apparently they were still talking about running. “I make the Room of Requirement give me some treadmills.”

“Treadmills?”

“They’re a machine with a conveyor belt on a loop, and when you run on top of it, it spins the belt backwards. Essentially, instead of you moving forward while the ground stays still, the ground moves backwards and you run in place.”

That made no sense to Draco. Why would you want the floor to move backwards?

“What did you do before you knew about the Room of Requirement?”

“Ah.” She closes her book. “I’ve actually known about the Room since first year.”

“Seriously?”

“I didn’t realize what it was!” She was getting defensive. “One day I was walking by and trying to think of a place for me to run, when it rains, like you said. I opened the door and it was a fully functional gym. When I mentioned the room to a few other students they thought I was crazy, and I assumed they just had no idea because no one else, except for quidditch players,” she shot back his glare, “exercises. I obviously didn’t realize it could be different things, I just thought Hogwarts had a gym.”

At this Draco starts laughing. The fact that the Brightest Witch of Her Age had been using the Room of Requirement as a gym was hilarious. That thing had been soaking up her sweat for years, whereas he had abused its magic to sneak Death Eaters into the castle. 

“You’re such a Gryffindor.”

“How does running on a treadmill make me a Gryffindor?”

“It’s not a bad thing!” he defended.

“I know it’s not a bad thing, I just--” she sighed and cleared her expression. “Everyone at Hogwarts does this, I’m not trying to single you out. They say something like, ‘Oh you had eggs for breakfast? What a Hufflepuff,’ and just assign whatever house that person is in. That statement makes just as much sense with Gryffindor, Slytherin, or Ravenclaw instead, people just like to define people based on their house.”

Her eyes were lit up and she was gesturing wildly. She was captivating.

“I mean it’s a bit ridiculous, don’t you think, that a hat tells us which house when we’re eleven, and then everyone goes and builds their personality around that? It’s a good way to make sure the hat is never wrong, when every person it sorts is sent to a house where they build their personality around their house. I mean, especially at age eleven or twelve no one knows who they’re truly going to grow up to be.”

That was true. At 11 Draco didn’t predict that he would grow up to get a tattoo that matched his father’s. 

“And it’s not entirely one person’s fault. Like I said, the rest of the school goes around attributing every decision made to the characteristics of a person’s house. If you’re told all throughout your formative years, ‘Oh you’re a Gryffindor because you did this,’ or ‘Yep, definitely a Ravenclaw because you did that,’ it’s hard to believe that they’re wrong.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” Wow Draco, what an intelligent remark to her fucking brilliant observation.

“I think everyone should have a little of every house in them.”

“What do you mean?” He prompted.

She sighed and narrowed her eyes in concentration, looking for the right words. “None of the founders were perfect, I mean one put a monster snake in the basement and one raised a totally jealous daughter. I just think that a good person has some characteristics of all four houses.”

Draco weighed her words. They made sense, but at the same time…

“Take you for example.”

Oh man. This was gonna be good. Let’s listen to my teenage enemy and now roommate deconstruct my personality and assess my character.

“You have the self-preservation and cunning to be in Slytherin of course, but you’re very smart too so there’s the Ravenclaw.”

Draco’s chest felt oddly… full?

“The Gryffindor is obvious, and the Hufflepuff shows in small ways, like when you make sure the patrol rotations are fair, not just equal.”

“Wait, backup.”

“When we’re setting patrol. I agree, it makes sense to give prefects with fewer classes fewer patrols, they have more homework.”

“No. The Gryffindor shite.”

“Oh.” She blushed. It looked pretty on her. “I… you just--.” She sighed. “Back in the war, in the Room of Requirement…” She trailed off. He had shut his eyes tight. “Do you… do you not want to talk about it?” she probed gently.

Draco shook his head.

“But do you get it?” she asked.

Draco nodded. 

“Okay. So then that’s what makes you a good person.”

Draco opened his eyes in disbelief. She had just taken one of the worst moments of his life, and spun in around and told him he was a good person. Surely she just meant good slytherin, right? 

But then he looked into her eyes. They were locked on his, daring him to challenge her. But he didn’t. If Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, protector of innocent creatures, integral member of the Golden Trio, said he was a good person, he believed her.

He stood up slowly and walked over to the couch, never breaking his eye contact. He sat gently next to her. She looked apprehensive, yet eager. Then his hand was beneath her curls, on the nape of her neck, he was tilting his head, leaning in, and he was kissing her. 

She froze for a moment, only a moment, and then she was kissing him back. They kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed. Hermione couldn’t believe she had been living with this man for a whole month and hadn’t kissed him before this. He was addictive. He tasted like Honeydukes chocolate, which Hermione wasn’t sure how he managed considering it was 7 in the morning. Her hands traveled from his biceps up to the back of his neck. When she first grabbed his hair he growled into her mouth. She gasped and he maneuvered her to her back with her head propped on the arm of the sofa. When he reached down to grab her arse she arched up into him and he let out a real grown. There was no longer any pretense of concealing their collective arousal. 

Eventually, she pulled away. “What brought this on?”

Fuck. That voice. The sexy ‘I’ve just snogged my brains out’ voice was too much. Draco pressed his forehead to hers. “You know exactly what.”

No one had ever called Draco a good person before, much associated the two terms. Yet here he was, laying over his arch nemesis, the one he personally antagonized all through school, with his hand on her arse. The arse he could finally grab.

“Do you want to know the houses I see in you?” He trailed a line of kisses across her jaw as she nodded. Then he pulled back to look at her fully. “Well there’s no shortage of Gryffindor evidence,” he said with a gentle smirk. Hermione thought this new smirk was much better, something a little softer, and more caring. “I mean you’re the lions’ den poster girl. You robbed a bank and escaped on a dragon, Granger. I don’t think I can stress how few people do that, even in the wizarding world.” 

She laughed a bit at this. He wasn’t wrong.

“Obviously, top of our class, Ravenclaw, wisdom and knowledge, etcetera etcetera. And then you’ve got that bleeding heart for house elves, Weasleys, and the like.” She gave him a little slap to the ribs at that. “Kidding, kidding, of course. But the bleeding heart is all Hufflepuff, what makes you a true Gryffindor is that you actually get up and do something about it.”

She smiled. Draco loved making her smile.

“I just can’t seem to find the Slytherin in you.” He could put some in her, he wanted to say. ‘Yeah sure Granger, I’ve got an extra bit of Slytherin that would fit in you real nicely.’ Somehow, he didn’t think it would go over too well.

“I kept Rita Skeeter in a jar for a year and then blackmailed her into writing the article about Harry that I wanted.”

“Yeah that’ll do it,” he said with a shocked expression. He couldn’t decide whether he should be proud or scared. This was his roommate he was dealing with.

And then they were back to kissing with renewed passion. Draco flipped them over to put Hermione on top and bent his knee up against the back of the couch. She was just so warm and soft and bloody fit that Draco didn’t want to get up.

“Don’t run in the morning” 

It was more of a question than the command he had intended. He kissed the corner of her mouth. 

“I want you to spend the night with me, Hermione” 

Something burned, deep inside her, upon hearing her first name from his pretty, swollen, mouth. But Hermione is stubborn, and Draco loves it.

“I could still run in the morning.”

“Mmm. I meant the whole night. At least until 7:00 a.m.”

He kissed her again, hard. They got a bit distracted.

“Okay,” she breathed, “I won’t run.”

Draco smiled as he sat up and pulled her knees to either side of his hips.

“On one condition,” she started, “you wake up to run with me the next day.” She let that sink in. “I’ll slow down a bit, but you have long legs, you’ll be fine.”

“Been thinking about my legs, have we Granger?”

Hermione popped a smirk. “Mostly just what’s between them.”

She tried to go back to kissing his neck, but Draco had other plans. He stood up with Hermione still wrapped around him and started walking to his room. 

“Deal.” he said.

“What about dinner?” She asked and giggled at the same time.

“You hate the Great Hall, we’ll eat dinner later.”

The door shut behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated, you can find me on tumblr here: sprintfly.tumblr.com


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